Friends of Knowledge
by Heather Robertson
Summary: When a Scottish doctor comes to work with House and his potential team, nothing is as it seems!
1. Preface

Preface

This was just a random little idea I had. I KNOW it moves fast – trust me, it is as medically accurate as possible!

This is set in season 4 of "House M.D." when all the doctors are still jockeying for jobs, but I have only worked with the main characters – Thirteen, Six/Nine, Taub and "Cutthroat Bitch" Amber.

Cos you saw lots of them so they're easy to write about.

End of. Don't like it, don't read!!

So come and meet Doctor Elizabeth "Zibby" Bricks and see just what holiday transfers mean!!

R&R please!

Love,

Heather

xxxx


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Office of Doctor Gregory House, M.D.: Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital**

House used his cane to push his office door open and started to dump his things by the sofa in the corner of the large room. The black, high-backed office chair behind his desk swung around.

Sitting in it was a girl of about twenty three or four. She was striking – long, dark brown hair, tightly braided and piercing blue eyes not unlike House's own. She was wearing black cargos, a black t-shirt and black converses. He was unsure, she was sitting down, but she must have been at least six foot two. The black accentuated her height and her slim, strong, athletic figure. She stood up and walked towards him with a hand outstretched.

"Doctor Gregory House, I presume? It's a pleasure. Elizabeth Bricks. We spoke on the phone the other day," she said, her strong Glaswegian accent ringing out in the glass-walled office.

"Oh, yeah, my holiday doctor," he said callously.

"I'm the UK's best diagnostician," she replied coolly.

"And yet you trained in America?" he asked, squinting at her CV, still on his desk.

"Actually I trained between here in Princeton, Thailand, Oxford and the Utsogushigahara Highlands in Japan," she replied. Still cool. Still not letting him rile her.

"Thailand and Japan?" he quizzed.  
"I was in the army," she said.

House paused. He looked her over again. She was keeping his eye contact, letting him know she was aware he was appraising her and she was in control.

"They say that doctors who trained in the army are too damaged for mainstream work."

"They say that drug addicts shouldn't even be given jobs," she replied smoothly. Not a dig. Just balancing the game again. He wasn't getting one-nil.

"I have forty applicants for three posts already."

"I'm not here for a job. I'm here to learn from you. I'll be back in Thailand in a year anyway."

"You still have to play the game."

"Games are my speciality, House."

And with that, she walked past him, left the room and headed to the applicant theatre, lifting a lab coat from his pile as she did so. House watched her go.

"Hm," he said to no-one in particular. "The stakes just got higher."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Canteen: Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital**

"You were in the army?"

"The RAF," Zibby nodded as Wilson sat opposite her in the canteen. She noted his look of confusion. "Royal Air Force."

Wilson nodded in an _I see_ kind of way. He passed her a cappuccino and sat down with his latte and toasted pannini.

"Oh, thanks."

"No problem. You looked like you could use it. Plus I owe you for the one you bought me earlier. I definitely needed the caffeine boost."

She took a mouthful, grimacing as she swallowed. She took it to the snack bar, added a shot of espresso and three sugars. Then she returned and took a swig with a satisfied smile. Discreetly, she slipped a pill under her tongue and swallowed, but Wilson just caught the movement.

"You're on meds?"

She froze but just for the tiniest split-second. Wilson himself didn't notice. She chuckled nervously, affecting embarrassment.

"Just paracetamol. Period pain," she admitted, a little flushed. The other doctor nodded.

"So how long have you known House?" she quizzed eagerly.

"Too long," laughed Wilson.

"Is he a good person?" she said, quiet, suddenly serious.

Wilson paused. "Ye-es," he said slowly. "He tries to hide it, and manages well, but yes, he is."

"Family?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"No wife? Children?"

"No, he lives alone." There was a small pause. "Why the sudden quizzing over House? I thought you didn't care about him."

"I don't," she said in a cool tone not unlike the one she'd used on House himself. "I'm just…interested. I saw a lot of psychology in the army. I want to figure him out."

"Why?" Wilson was completely mystified.

Again, she froze. There was a moment – their eyes locked. Then her pager started bleeping and she checked it.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "Got to go. Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime," Wilson called as she stalked away, lab coat flowing behind her. He shrugged. First-day nerves. Butterflies in the stomach. Don't take anything from it. With a wry smile he headed back to oncology. _She'll give you a run for your money, Greg,_ thought Wilson, looking towards House's office.

Meanwhile, House put down his newspaper, grabbed his cane, and left the canteen.


	4. Chapter 3

Well, so far, no takers. But I'm enjoying my story!! Much much much gratitude to my lovely, lovely Beta reader! Check her out in all her wonderfulness at .net/u/1272542/Swing_Girl_At_Heart

________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter Three**

**Applicant Theatre: Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

"This is Ms. Bricks," House said, stalking into the lecture theatre. "She – "

"It's DOCTOR Bricks," she said, following him to the front of the hall. "Don't panic. I'm not here to steal a job. I'm a diagnostician and my superiors thought that it would be good for me to learn from Dr. House for a while. No sweat."

She looked around her. The faces were warily welcoming. House flipped his cane at a seat and she took it as Wilson quietly slipped in at the back door.

"You're solving my clinic," House said, dropping a stack of manila folders onto his desk. It was directed at the whole room, but his blue eyes stared, pebble-hard at Doctor Bricks.

"Patient is tired and pale. Significant note of PKD in - "

"Anaemia. Possibly inherited PKD." Bricks caught on.

"Don't you want us to examine the patients?" Number Nine protested but they were still going.

House threw aside the first folder and picked up the second.

"Caucasian, 40-year-old male, upper abdominal pain, also complaining of regular stomach upsets, nausea and regular heartburn."

"His rings?"

He couldn't hide a grin. "Solid gold signets."

"Dyspepsia."

"This isn't fair!" pointed out Thirteen.

House tossed down that folder, picked up another. "12-year-old Hispanic female, rapid unexplained weight loss, hair loss, mouth ulcers and fever."

"Autoimmune. Check her joints and lymph nodes, possibly lupus."

The folders were switched again. Every doctor in the room had his or her mouth hanging open. House and Bricks were looking at one another and seemed totally unaware that anyone else was in the room.

"White 20-year old female, complaining of a burning sensation when - "

House was abruptly cut off as Cuddy stormed into the room. She looked furious. "Stop it. Now!" she commanded. The room fell silent.

"It's an STD," Bricks said calmly. Appalled, Cuddy turned to her.

"What?"

"The patients' photograph. She's white, blonde, she's definitely had her tits enlarged. Even in a medical photo, she's posing suggestively. Lots of bling. I'm guessing she's a sex worker or erotic dancer of some sort. Symptom was a burning sensation when – when what? When she pees? When she has sex?" she shrugged. "No great difference."

After several moments, Cuddy looked around her. "Clinic. All of you. Go!"

The doctors trickled out of the doors like a stream depressed at its surroundings. Taub approached Elizabeth.

"Everyone in this room is a good doctor. But you also seem like a good person. House isn't. Either you'll hide your talent to make the ride easier, or House will poison you. Poison you like he poisoned his last team. Either way – I'm sorry," he told her.

Then with a sympathetic smile, he slipped away, leaving her wondering just what the result of her time in America would be. After a few moments she caught up with the other members of the team.

"I'm really not a plant," she emphasised, running to the front of the group so she could turn around and face them all. There was a long pause.

"Taub," he introduced himself.

"What are you doing?" muttered Thirteen. "Of course she's a plant."

"Shut up," Amber told her, annoyed at the brunette's paranoia. "Amber."

"Zibby," the Scot smiled gratefully. She noted the slightly confused looks. "Elizabeth. Please don't use it, it's way too English."

"You…dislike the English?" Kutner asked her.

"Yep, as should anyone with Scottish blood in their heart," she told him vehemently.

There was an awkward pause as the group wondered how to respond to such heartfelt racism. Zibby, however, was unconcerned. It was normal in her opinion.

"So, eh – clinic?"

Amber was thrilled to see Thirteen's clear dislike of their new colleague. She didn't like the pretty brunette one bit as Thirteen was probably her biggest contender for a job – or so she thought.

"C'mon _Zibby_," she said, stepping forward with a smirk. "Let me show you."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Office of Doctor Cuddy, M.D.: Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

"What did you think you were PLAYING at?" cried Cuddy, pacing the small portion of floor covered by an expensive rug.

"I was testing a doctor to see if she deserved a place on my team," House said coolly.

"It was insane! It was a list of random, unrelated symptoms concocting a completely unfair - "

"She was right," House informed his superior firmly.

Cuddy was thrown. "What?"

"I didn't need her to solve those cases, they're Wilson's and they're all being treated. Treated for exactly what she diagnosed them with."

Cuddy sank slowly into her chair. "You're sure?"

House nodded. "Patient number one had anaemia and has been confirmed with polycystic kidneys. Patient two was a 'sugar daddy'. More money than sense, lives on his yacht, too much rich food led to dyspepsia. Patient three has lupus and patient four was a prostitute from California with chlamydia."

There was a long silence while the woman in charge tried to drink this in. "I want to offer her a job," said House, avoiding eye contact.

"Of course you do," muttered the older woman distractedly.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"I th - " The door swung open and Amber stood behind it, looking worried.

"Sorry."

"What is it?" snapped Cuddy impatiently.

"It's Zibby. She collapsed."

House and Cuddy looked at one another and launched themselves simultaneously towards their sick colleague.

**Clinic: Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

Doctor "Zibby" Bricks nodded and smiled as her patient thanked her again and left. She caught her hand on the counter as she picked up the next patient's chart. She looked down at her wrist. Just a scratch.

She welcomed the next patient – a teenage boy – and was quick to diagnose him. Possibly because she was talented. Just as possibly because she realised that his complaint of a sensitive stomach, nausea and difficultly catching his breath were caused by stress. She spoke to him and in the end, sent him away quite comforted.

It was then that it struck. Suddenly her stomach dropped into queasy hell. She bolted to the bathroom in her treatment room, and just in time. Dropping to her knees in front of the toilet, she retched once, twice and was violently sick.

Amber, working next door, heard her throwing up and assumed it was the patient as she put her own patient's file back. Then she noticed the open door and realised that it was the good doctor.

Zibby was struggling to her feet as she entered. "Are you alright?" asked Amber grudgingly, patting her colleague's back. Zibby laid a hand on her forearm.

"I – I don't - "

That was when her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**A hospital room: ****Princeton ****Plainsboro ****Teaching Hospital**

Zibby had deteriorated fast. She was white. Her dark her was plastered to her face with sweat and she was struggling with the waves of nausea. "What happened?" demanded House and Cuddy simultaneously. Unrehearsed.

"We don't know!" cried Taub, thrusting a sick bowl into her hands as she vomited again.

"Elizabeth?" Cuddy put a hand on her doctor's shoulder. She still had her lab coat on.

"No idea," gasped the Scot. "But please figure it out!"

**Applicant Theatre: Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

"Sudden onset symptoms – vomiting, nausea, dizziness and fainting. Discuss." House wrote the symptoms on the board as he spoke before turning to the doctors.

"Hangover!" complained Number Six.

"She does not have a hangover," Amber said dismissively.

"How do you know?" he argued.

"I caught her when she fainted, I'd have smelt it on her breath." She turned to House. "She's not been drinking."

"I know," House said simply. "First day on the job? That would be stupid!"

"A stomach bug," suggested Taub.

"Now let's be medical. We're doctors!" cried House.

"Food poisoning," threw in Thirteen. "She ate something bad, her stomach's trying to rid her body of the poison."

"She's not dehydrated, why would she faint? And why the sudden onset, she was fine before," argued Amber.

"She was in the army," called Wilson from the back of the room. Everybody started; most turned round.

"And?" asked House with a swooping turn of the head.

"Why would she have bad hygiene practices?"

"He's right," said Taub. House's pager started to bleep frantically. He looked at it.

"New symptom. Told the nurses to page me. They love me when I'm bossy," he said with a suggestive wink as he stalked out of the room. The doctors, confused, followed.

**A hospital room: ****Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

When House entered the room, Zibby was lying on her side in the bed with tears streaming down her cheeks. She had an oxygen mask on and a nurse was crouched by the bed, encouraging her to slow her gasping breaths.

Zibby looked up at House. They made eye contact and he froze. For some reason that he would never admit, he was moved. Upset at her obvious distress and suddenly overtaken by an urge to stop her obvious pain.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. Not ready for nonchalance yet.

"About ten minutes ago," began the nurse testily.

"C'mon Mom, don't yell," pouted the senior diagnostician.

"She started to complain of severe muscular back pain."

"When did the respiratory difficulties start?" asked Thirteen quietly.

"About a minute before you lot showed up."

House was standing by Zibby's bed, watching her. "House?" asked Taub gently.

There was a pause.

He nodded. "Differential," he stated, turning away from her. Nobody moved.

"First one to my office gets a cookie!" cried House, starting to leave the room. The other doctors turned to the door as Zibby reached up and caught House's hand.

Again, the room was totally still. "Go!" House told his doctors. He started to leave with them, but when the room was empty he saw Zibby's eyes roll back in her skull as she passed out again. He walked over to her and brushed her sweat-soaked hair back and out of her eyes.

"Don't worry," he said, very quietly.


	7. Chapter 6

Dear Reader,

I am so, so very sorry! I know, I know, I'm a rubbish updater! BUT my brand-new beta (thanks Miss Hyde) is keeping me to a writing schedule, so this will now be fixed. Can I just say, all the Favourites and Story Alerts make my day, so this is dedicated to everyone who's done that!

H. R. xxxxx

**Chapter Six**

**Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital: House's Office**

Having sent his doctors to rerun the blood tests – third time lucky – looking for autoimmune conditions, House retreated to his office.

His peace and quiet didn't last long. His weight had barely flopped into the chair when Cuddy stormed through the door. Her eyes blazing, fury written in the fine lines of her face.

'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?' she stormed.

House gaped at her, 'What? What, did I offend a lawyer when I _walked in the door?'_ He slapped his hands to his cheeks in mock horror. 'Well, I _am_ sorry.'

'I know that you hate doing any actual work, I know that you shirk clinic and put patients at risk as you overload _every_ other doctor in my hospital but _this_, House, is too far.'

'Whaddya gonna do – fire me?' he muttered sardonically. Cuddy rolled her eyes – she knew this wasn't going to happen just as much as House did. (I meant the colloquialism 'whaddya gonna', I didn't think it was in keeping with House's speech patterns, but don't worry about it if you like it.) What has gotten _into_ you?' His voice dropped to a conspiratorial level, but retained its bitter edge; he was sulking. 'Forget your pills?'

'Are you sick?' she demanded.

'Yes,' he drawled sarcastically, clutching one hand to his stomach and pretending to vomit.

'Have you stopped taking your Vicodin?' She was both excited and concerned, wary of a trick; there had been no noticeable difference in him, but…

'Of course not!' He was already chewing two.

'Then what is this?' Frustrated, she thrust a piece of paper under his nose as Taub knocked and burst in, looking too harassed to wait around for permission to enter. 'If you're not sick, why are your team running blood tests on you?' she continued, ignoring Taub.

'Why _are_ you running blood tests on me?' asked House.

Taub missed a beat; looked confused. 'I'm not.'

House glanced down at the paper in his hand. The staff database of DNA had hit up his name. He dismissed it; he would deal with it later. 'What?'

'You need to come see her.'

'Why, what's happened?' asked House, grabbing his cane.

'Excuse me?' protested Cuddy. Both men ignored her – a first. Taub wasn't used to ignoring Cuddy, and House wasn't used to acting in unison with anyone.

'She's vomiting again. But there's some sort of mass on her hand, we don't know what it is. And speaking of blood, hers is clean.'

**Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital: A Hospital Room**

House walked into the room. Thirteen was tying back the sick doctor's hair as Amber held the bowl she was throwing up into. Someone screamed nearby.

Ignoring them, House walked up and lifted her hand. It was a swollen, purple-black bruise with two dark central puncture wounds. Two.

He laid pressure on her hand, his eyes trained on her face. Zibby yelped in pain.

House stalked from the room. The doctors looked at one another, astounded, unused to the speed of House's realisations and the lack of communication that came with the idea in his eyes.

**Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital: Clinic**

Cameron screamed and threw her files straight back onto the admissions desk, running backwards. Cuddy was at her side in a moment.

'What is it?'

'S-spider!' gasped Cameron, pointing at her folders, her eyes wide.

Chase saw one of the nurses eyeing him pointedly as his girlfriend panicked. Mentally rolling his eyes, he ran up and put an arm round her shoulders. 'Sshhhh honey. It's okay,' he muttered half-heartedly.

Cameron buried her face in Chase's shoulder. Cuddy, meanwhile, looked uncomfortable.

'Want me to get it?' asked Chase. She nodded.

Chase slowly disentangled himself from his shaking girlfriend's arms and went over to the folders, picking up a glass as he went. He slowly lifted the folders, then slammed it down so hard that it cracked but stayed in one piece. 'Oh my…_fuck_!'

A massive black spider was crawling over the glass. '_Shit_,' cursed Chase, flinching away from it, his chest suddenly heaving as his breath caught in shock.

'What's going on?' asked House, stomping grumpily into Clinic on a Taub-hunt.

'That's a Northern Black Widow,' Chase gulped, suddenly much less eager to play the perfect hero. 'Seen them back home.'

Cuddy caught the nurse's eye who had been looking at Chase previously. 'Go to the nurse's room, find me a box.' Seeing the nurse about to question, she barrelled on. 'An empty lunchbox if you have to, move!' she snapped, throwing a nervous look at the black and red spider.

An idea was dawning in House's eyes. 'What symptoms does the bite cause?'

Chase was rooted to the spot, having difficulty tearing his eyes from the glass. 'Er, vomiting, dizziness, nausea, muscle pain...respiratory difficulties. Why?' he asked House worriedly, looking up to the spot where the older man had been.

He was already gone.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Princeton Plainsboro Hospital: A Hospital Room.**

Having grabbed what he needed from the clinic, House stomped into the room where Zibby lay listlessly on the bed, the confident three-step of his feet and his cane matching the confident look in his eye. He threw his cane onto the bottom of Zibby's bed and she slowly turned her head. It was clear from the set of her jaw that even that simple movement exacerbated her intense pain. Without a word, he took her arm, found a vein and carefully injected the contents of the syringe in his hand.

Taub had caught up with House in the hallway, but after being blatantly ignored and watching him head to Zibby's room, Taub joined Thirteen and Amber against one wall, watching the diagnostic genius work the magic they'd heard so much about. Chase followed, still casting nervous glances at the spider which he had nervously ushered into the hastily provided Tupperware box. He would deal with the mini-Shelob once he'd found out why House had, yet again, vanished mid-sentence.

The effect of the anti-venom was stunning; within moments, her breathing had eased and colour had returned to her cheeks. Chase barged into the room and past the gawping doctors inside.

'House, why can't you ever - ' he cut off as House raised a hand. They waited in a tense, awed silence. After a long ten minutes, Zibby struggled up a little, unaided, resting on her elbows.

'What the hell?' she asked.

'Feeling better?' House demanded, triumph and pride clear in his voice.

'A little,' she said cautiously.

'Chase.' House held out his hand for the box, but kept his blue eyes hard on Zibby. Chase stepped forward obediently and placed the box into his hand.

'You got bit by this little baby,' House explained, as the huge spider crawled around the box.

'God!' she shuddered and ripped her eyes away, fixing them on the floor. 'Take it out of here! Take it out!' she cried, panicking.

House didn't hesitate - he pushed the box into Chase's hands, who headed straight for the door, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

'What is it?' asked Thirteen, staring at the box curiously as he passed.

'A big bug, Momma,' House told her.

'It's a black widow,' Chase said in an annoyed tone, turning to shut the door behind him.

'I had someone in today who bred them,' Amber burst out, her face was pale with the realisation. 'In the clinic. Came in with stomach pain and vomiting. I thought it was gastro,' she blurted.

'Go call him. If he can still talk.' She nodded and left as House turned back to the bed. 'You'll be fine in an hour or two but they'll keep you here tonight f-'

'For observation,' Zibby finished with a weak smile. 'Sure.' One by one, the doctors filed out, glancing back at their colleague as they went.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

That night, House joined Wilson for a late dinner in an expensive restaurant. Wilson was paying, of course.

'What can I get you, sirs?' asked their waitress politely.

Greg looked James in the eye, and put his hand over James' on the table, lacing their fingers. 'What do you want, honey?' he simpered. James flushed scarlet and shook his hand free.

"The risotto," he told the waitress, his face hot. He ground his teeth in frustration. She smiled in a patronising manner.

'Right away sir.'

'Why do you always do that?' James demanded as the waitress left with their order.

'Do what? Are you ashamed of me, pumpkin?' House asked, clasping both hands over his heart and reeling back, fluttering his eyelashes.

'Is there a reason for all this?' Wilson gestured around the restaurant House had told him he'd booked a table for. (Of course, it was only when he got there he had to fend off the maître d' who thought he was proposing to House - another annoyance he'd deal with later.)

'Got a puzzle for you,' House said, leaning forward. There was a pause.

'And?'

'My _holiday doctor_,' he said, the term a little disdainful. 'She might work,' he said hesitantly.

James, knowing House was looking for his opinion, was a little suspicious but dug around for a fitting response anyway. 'She's... nice. Takes too much caffeine and sugar in her coffee,' he said helplessly, not really knowing where this was going.

'Good doctor?'

'Sure,' he shrugged.

There was a few moments of silence. 'Why?' James asked eventually.

'Not sure.' House shrugged, sipped at his drink.

'So, has everything been okay lately?' Wilson asked casually.

The waitress didn't help either by appearing at that moment with their food. He nodded his thanks, but missed a beat in his forced calm. House was leaning back now, staring at him with bright eyes, not missing a trick.

'Cuddy wants to know about the blood tests.' Not a question.

'I just wanted to know how you were,' Wilson argued firmly. It was only half a lie, after all.

'Not mine,' he admitted, grudgingly.

'That won't work.' Wilson pointed his fork accusingly at House. 'They flashed your DNA. Hospital have all the staff on file. When did you stop taking your Vicodin? There's hardly any in - '

'THEY'RE NOT MINE!' House yelled, suddenly frustrated.

'House, they_ have_ to be!' demanded Wilson, equally frustrated.

'THEY'RE - ', he broke off suddenly. 'Hardly any in? Hardly what?'

'What?' Wilson was thrown by the backtrack.

'You were going to say there's hardly any Vicodin in the blood that flashed as mine,' he said accusingly.

'Yeah, there was less than - '

'How many did you see?" he demanded.

'All of them?' suggested James. He wasn't sure. 'Stop trying to change the - '

'But there were three sets. Three sets came up with my name. Why would I test my own blood or have my team test my blood three times? It makes no sense,' he gabbled, getting the ideas out of his mouth as thick and fast as they were flowing, ignoring Wilson's protestations.

'HOUSE!' Wilson cut him off. 'The tests were for an autoimmune and they found an unidentified toxin. Are you sick? Is something wrong?' He was speaking slower now, tentatively. Afraid of the answer.

'Yes,' House stared unseeingly past him. 'Something's wrong.' He grabbed his cane and levered his way out of his chair before making his way out of the restaurant, surprisingly fast for a man with his level of disability.

Wilson stared open-mouthed after him. He groaned aloud in frustration, instantly regretting it as he heard the woman at the next table whisper something about a lover's tiff. He leaned his head, which was starting to throb, on his fingertips.

'Sir?' The waitress was back at his shoulder. 'Sir, are you all right? Is there something you need? Sir?' She was nothing if not persistent – and utterly unable to respond to his mental _go away_ signals.

Wearily, Wilson lifted his head. 'I need the check.'


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Princeton Plainsboro Hospital: A Hospital Room**

Having retrieved her bag from House's lecture theatre, Zibby was passing time on her laptop. She felt much better – stronger, almost intrinsically. She felt well, but they were refusing to let her check out. Hospital employees had a responsibility, apparently.

She was surfing the net, working on her webpage when Cuddy came into the room. "Dr Cuddy," she greeted respectfully, with a smile, closing over her laptop with a gentle click.

"How are you feeling?" the older woman asked politely.

"I'm doing great. There's not really any –"

Cuddy held up a hand to break her off. "Better safe than sorry."

Zibby gave her a rueful grin. "Everybody loves a trier."

"Not necessarily," Cuddy informed her, eyebrows raised, but she wasn't really cross. "I was hoping for a chat – if you're feeling up to it?" While the sentence had the inflection of a question, Zibby correctly guessed that it was not a choice.

"Sure. What's up?" (didn't see the point of an ellipses

"I saw you in a diagnostic session with Doctor House this morning. Your diagnoses were... It was certainly interesting."

"I trained as an army doctor, I'm used to quick-fire medicine." There was a beat as she registered her own words – and then winced. "Pardon the pun."

"It certainly was fast."

"As I said."

The women appraised one another silently for a moment before Zibby spoke again. "Has there been a complaint about my work?" she queried, looking concerned.

"No, no, nothing like that. Doctor House seems quite impressed."

"It was my impression that Doctor House doesn't really _do_ impressed," she said, locking Cuddy with an unblinking look.

"He doesn't tend to show it, no, bu –"

"Well he is American. In my experience we Scots are more open with emotion in general. Unless it's hysteria." She was smiling, but there was a bitter nugget behind her jokey tone.

"He appreciates the skill of another doctor."

"No, he doesn't." Again, she stated this blandly with a pebble-hard stare. "Doctor House doesn't appreciate anyone, because to appreciate someone he would have to see them as at least an equal, if not a superior, and Doctor House doesn't see anyone on any level. His world is sharper than the rest of ours and so, we blend into a faceless crowd. It's characteristic of an addict." There was the briefest of pauses while she stared Cuddy down – fighting to level the playing field, just as she had with House. "I saw a lot of it in the army," she said softly, backing down. Justifying her words. "Some of the more experienced soldiers stop treating civilians as individuals because they just didn't see them any more. They see so much horror – so many things that I don't think people are ever meant to see. And so, their view is changed. It kind of matches a lot of Doctor House's behaviour," she finished, carefully using his title.

"You would work well together," acknowledged Cuddy.

"Thank you."

"Perhaps you should consider exactly what you want from your time here in Princeton, and if it could become a more valuable experience." Cuddy looked her straight in the eyes. Not giving her an inch.

A nurse entered the room to check on Zibby, instructed to do so every half-hour. Cuddy rose and headed towards the door to let the nurse do her work. Halfway there, however, she paused and turned back. "Doctor Bricks, I can't seem to find your resume. I have the confirmation documents for your time here but your resume isn't to be found."

"I'll get you another copy," Zibby smiled. The Dean left without another word as Zibby allowed the blood pressure cuff to be wrapped around her arm.

When the nurse had finished, she reopened her laptop and resumed her work, but after a moment or two she found her mind wandering. Biting her lip, she opened a new window and logged into her email. "_Dear Tom._" She stared at those words in the blank email form for a second before continuing. "_All going (fairly) flawlessly. In technicality. Something doesn't feel right here though...Kiss the baby_ _for me. Love Z xx"_. She clicked send, and then attempted to return to her work.

**Applicant Theatre: Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

Zibby slowly pulled on her lab coat the next morning. She never managed to sleep in hospitals and she felt sluggish and slow. Espresso needed. Idly trying to figure out if it would actually work if she just injected it into her veins, she slid through the lecture theatre doors and took a chair at the back, taking a moment to gather herself and try to appear awake.

Amber, sitting not too far away, glanced around lazily for a few moments before spotting the Scottish cuckoo in the nest of tense young doctors.

"Zibby! You're better!" Amber was wide-eyed as she greeted to Scot. Zibby was a little stung as she held up a finger, signalling her to wait a moment, before theatrically pinching her arm and patting herself down.

"Yep. Seems so," she said wryly.

Taub had left his seat and approached her. "Are you..."

"Yes, I'm really better! Honest, I'm not faking health!"

He grinned. "Just thought I'd check."

"Your diagnostic powers _astound_ me," she joked dryly, but caught his eye and gave a tiny nod of thanks. He nodded back, and then turned to head back to his seat.

Having seen the other girl freeze, Zibby turned, following Amber's bitter gaze, and saw Thirteen walk in the door. She looked awful – tired and pale. Their eyes locked for a second, but Thirteen ripped her gaze away and headed for her seat. Zibby wondered whether to try and talk to the brunette, when their lord and master entered the lecture theatre in his usual three-beat walk, the thunk of his cane rattling surprisingly loudly though the suddenly silent lecture hall. It was a surprising contrast, Zibby noted. The suddenly silent doctors, all in semi-smart clothes and lab coats, waiting to be addressed by their superior, the great Doctor House. The superior who limped heavily into the room, leaning on his flame-licked cane, chewing pills – the bottle for which he was tucking into the pocket of his leather jacket – and carrying only his bag and his bright yellow motorcycle helmet.

He flicked his wrist as he dropped the helmet onto the desk at the front, and it flicked and twirled around. Zibby's Blackberry vibrated in her pocket, and she discreetly read her text.

"_Fret not. All good. T x"_

She slipped it away, feeling a weight lift. He was right. Everything would be just fine. She smiled to herself. "God bless America."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Canteen: Princeton Plainsboro Hospital**

After helping out in the lab all morning, Zibby's feet were throbbing slightly in her two-inch heels. Not that she needed the boost to her height, but she preferred heels. She gratefully slid into line for lunch at the canteen. And after a moment, felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hi!"

She turned her head. "Oh, Amber, hi. How was your morning?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Bo-ring. Clinic duty. House didn't deem me _important_ enough to take part in this case."

"That's a shame," said Zibby, trying to care. She was so tired. Coffee. "Espresso," she requested of the surly, bored woman behind the snack bar. She cast her eyes over the fridge beside it as she waited for her coffee, and after a moment, selected a pre-packaged chicken sandwich and a pack of potato chips. She dithered a moment and then added the plastic cup of fruit salad to her tray.

"Thanks." She took the tiny coffee and set it on her tray and moved off as Amber grabbed her food, the blonde catching her up as she passed over a few dollar bills. Amber paid for her lunch, and then they took a table together.

"So...why America?"

Zibby shrugged, sipping the now highly-sugared coffee. "Got offered a holiday transfer. I'd heard of House. I get to learn from him and get some sun. Don't get _any_ of those opportunities back home. Especially the last one."

Amber laughed, wrapping her hands around her cardboard cup of tea. "So how long are you here for?"

"About a month," Zibby replied, stifling a yawn. Her Blackberry vibrated and she started patting her pockets, looking for it as she finished explaining. "Could be more, but definitely won't be less. I only got into the country four days ago," she told her, pulling out her phone and stifling another yawn. "I'm so jet-lagged, my body doesn't ken if it's breakfast or teatime. And yesterday didn't help me much."

Amber tried to keep up, but stopped listening at teatime. "Ken? Who's Ken?" she asked, confused, looking slightly cross at being caught out.

"Oh, sorry, know, my...body doesn't _know_ if it's breakfast or...dinnertime?" she asked, looking for confirmation.

"Oh." Shortly. Zibby bypassed this, replying to the message on her phone.

**Applicant Theatre: Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital**

All too soon, Amber and Zibby were re-entering the lecture theatre. Everyone was livelier than that morning. Taub looked up when they entered the room, caught Zibby's eye and tossed her a smile. She grinned back and flopped gratefully into her chair. Her feet were starting to throb a little less. Discreetly, she swallowed a tablet and sat back. That would be better. House reappeared, but the sudden silence didn't fall this time. He strode to his desk on the off-beat rhythm Zibby was learning to recognise, but no sooner had he sat down than a nurse stalked into the room. She looked murderous and she was heading straight for House. Now the room settled.

"Doctor House," she spat, in a venomously annoyed tone. "If. You. Need. Messages. Hire. A. SECRETARY," she demanded through clenched teeth, throwing a slip with a telephone message down before him.

"Only if you're applying and agree to wear that black tunic you sometimes do when you're not in scrubs, ma'am," he said, with a mocking salute, sweeping a hard look up to meet her angry eyes.

She stalked out, muttering furiously and House grinned before glancing up at the theatre. "So, results of the tests you were all beavering your little hearts away...on?" he asked, faltering slightly as he read the message, but recovering his line of thought instantly and looking up.

Taub reeled off the list of test results – all clean. No surprises there, the ER had already run all of the tests they had been sent to do. There wasn't a happy doctor in the theatre – those who had been running the tests were bored and frustrated that they'd been made to needlessly repeat tests, and those who had been farmed out to clinic or ER were wishing they were getting a chance to shine for the diagnostician.

"So! Differential!" House moved on rapidly. He received a room of blank stares. They had done a differential that morning (which he ignored to have them repeat the tests) and the patient's status hadn't changed.

House turned to the board, still full of that morning's scribblings. "Oh wow! You guys worked through lunch? Shucks!" He glanced up. "Row three, go eliminate."

The applicants got up and headed for the doors, Amber throwing Zibby a smug grin as she passed.

"Rest of you, clinic. It's all day today. Go on!" There was a collective groan as the rest of the room got to their feet and headed for the door.

"Bricks!" House called, eyes on his desk. Zibby headed down to the front of the hall and waited expectantly.

"This is yours." He passed over the slip, eyes still on his desk.

Zibby's eyes swept over the message and she gasped in shock. "TO: Dr Bricks FROM: Doubletree Hotel. MESSAGE: Regret to inform of fire late this morning. Closed until further notice."


End file.
